


Being Different

by SilverSnake15



Series: Two Faerie (Idiots) in Love - Shadowhunter Chronicles [1]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadowhunter Chronicles Fusion, F/M, Nephilim, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Seelie Court, Sexy Times, Snark, Urban Fantasy, faerie - Freeform, magical hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSnake15/pseuds/SilverSnake15
Summary: A young assassin deals with trauma from her past. Sometimes, the only way to go forward is to have a good roll in the hay.





	1. Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A former (and sort-of current) assassin goes to a dance and has feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: scars, past/mentioned rape & sexual/physical abuse, mentioned deceased character, PTSD (flashbacks & anxiety/trauma)

She felt threatened by him. She didn't mind admitting that--to herself, that is.

His father had been a murderous hypocrite. His half-brother (she'd had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting that one personally) had roped her into a cycle of abuse and lies, marking her with scars that would never go away. His sister was a lucky, manipulative brat. Only his mother, Jocelyn, was palatable...but the human woman was still being fooled by her first husband, even to this day. It was safe to say that Janice Katriora would always hate Morgensterns, from their flesh deep into their self-righteous souls. 

She hated him the moment she'd entered the revel, and picked him out of the crowd with her trained hunter's eye. 

He was beautiful, in that cruel way that full faerie were.

_Jonathan had been beautiful, too, when he'd seduced her and made her think he cared and kissed her unholy runes and pleasured her in his bed and then told her she belonged to him and slapped her and pulled her by her hair and ripped off her clothes and shoved himself into her again, again, again, and ignored her tears and violated her and cut into her skin and chained her up just so he could do it all over and over--_NO. 

That had been over a year ago. Jonathan was dead now; she had helped kill him. It had taken a while for her to be able to be touched by anyone, let alone fuck...but that was then. Magnus and Catarina helped her through their own brand of therapy (no way was an infamous assassin trying to go to therapy in the middle of New York), where she talked and cried more than she had in her entire life. It was really uncomfortable. She got to cuddle Meow, Mags' teeny cat, and stab a lot of practice dummies, though. That was nice. And it was nice to vent about all the things that had bothered her: her mom's disappearance (because of that Seelie bitch), her dad sacrificing himself in a demon nest, seeing what she'd seen when she'd been a hired hand, being stupid enough to fall for Jonathan Morgenstern in the first place. Lots of stuff. Now she was a lot better.

"_Fuc__k_-" Yeah, so um, she'd been invited to a faerie revel at some lord's castle. Those weren't dangerous at all, since she was half-fae herself.

"Language, Lady Katriora," her new friend purred, soft lips brushing her ear. She could feel him smirking; he'd been whispering what he wanted to do to her for the past couple of minutes, and she was getting impatient. Apparently she'd gone from sensitive-victim to thirsty-as-hell somewhere down the line.

"Language, my ass. Are you gonna fuck me, or not?" He stepped back so he could see her face, and she his. His hair was like golden flames, curling in elegant waves that stopped just below his chin, and his eyes were even more attractive--luminous, not quite blue, not quite grey. _Breathtaking_.

"That depends. Do you plan on making an attempt on my life?" She raised an eyebrow. He merely stayed calm, awaiting her answer. What she did for a living wasn’t exactly a secret, even if she had cut back on lethal work lately.

"No."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes." 

"Good. Follow me." He led her away from where the others danced and drank to their hearts' content, down two hallways until he reached a set of locked double doors. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a bronze key, which he used to grant himself entrance to the bedroom inside.

The moment she stepped within the confines of the lavishly decorated room, he was on her, pulling her into a fierce kiss. She wasn’t any less eager than he was, using her magic to close the doors (privacy would be nice) before she ran her fingers through his hair and _tugged_. He groaned, and she laughed, which caused her Mood Ring-type nixie locks to turn a bright sky blue.

”Kinky. I like it.” His eyes seemed to darken as he gazed at her.

”Bed. _Now_.”

”Thought you’d never ask, my lord.” She grinned, and then he surprised the shit out of her by picking her up bridal style and unceremoniously dumping her on his silk sheets. He shed his own tunic and boots before following her down, giving her a nice view of his lightly toned frame that she very much appreciated. A snap of her own fingers caused her dress and shoes to seemingly dissolve into thin air, and if that didn’t make his eyes widen—especially because all she wore as undergarments was a thin pair of panties and a strapless bra. Granted, they were the cheap kind made for comfort, not cuteness, but he hardly seemed to care. He was between her legs in an instant, propping himself up on his elbows so he hovered above her stomach.

”I...who...?” He was staring at the ugly scars that spelled out ‘mine’—the ones Sebastian had carved with a blade of demon metal. Catarina had done her best, but the marks were still visible. Just another reminder that she was permanently broken. She tried to smile.

”I have lots of those. Runes, too, see?” Her other scars were minuscule, fading. Her runes were silvery, like shining ribbons decorating her body. There was no way to make this okay.

She sighed. “Fine. Let me get up so I can get dressed," the young woman mumbled, disappointed and ashamed. _Sebastian had made her ugly, and she had let it happen._

”No. That’s not...” He kissed her, soft yet insistent as his hands explored her body. He moved slowly; first, he held her face in his hands, then brushed a few stray strands of aquamarine from her forehead. Eventually he traced over the curve of her breasts, and took a moment to rub over the hidden rosy peaks, which made her gasp. Finally, he traced her worst scars. The whole time, his eyes never left hers. “I’ve heard a great many things about you, m’lady. I am not sure what truth they hold, but I know that if you wanted me dead, I would be.”

”...you think I’d kill you just because you’re Valentine’s son. Sebastian’s brother.”

”Your gaze was unkind earlier...”

”His memory hurts. Seeing you, wanting you...it’s complicated.”

”Likewise.” She must’ve looked truly shocked, because he smiled and nodded. “Would you give me the honor of pleasing you tonight, Lady Katriora?”

”Jayn...I'm...Jayn. Yes.”


	2. Solace

He kissed her again, more insistently this time, and she did not back away from the challenge. Within a minute, they were panting and gasping into each other, acting almost ravenous in their sudden need. The only pause came when his hand traveled south to the apex of her thighs, and upon finding lacy panties that were half-soaked through, Cathan firmly stroked her. 

Jayn’s response was immediate, losing control of her place in the kiss as she whined and pressed herself into her partner’s hand. To make things worse, the merciful asshole did it _again_, and she barely had time to bite back a second cry. He was grinning.

“I take it...you’re ready for me?” he asked as he hovered just above her, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room. The assassin felt a little dizzy (it’d been a while since she’d done this soft of thing), but that had never stopped her from showing strength before. She nodded once, sharply, and quietly caught her breath. “Jayn?”

“Mh?” She couldn’t read him right now, not as...unfocused...as she was, and she hated that. 

“Do. You. Want. Me?”

“_Yes_.”

“Good.” To her surprise, he pressed a kiss to her neck, then moved down so his face was level with the area he’d stimulated moments before. _Angel_, even his warm breath was driving her crazy, as sensitive as she was there. And when he lunged forward to lick her through her panties—she actually sobbed. Her hair, so in tune with her emotions, was clearly confused, shifting shades as dramatically as the sea, but she hardly noticed.

“Cathan Morgenstern—” Thankfully, he took the words for what they were, ignoring the tremors in her tone, and carefully peeled the ruined underwear away, baring her body to the cool air of his bedroom. But he only gave her a moment before he began to lap at her with his (_very skilled_) tongue. “_Fucking shit—” _He pulled back enough to meet Jayn’s dark eyes with a smirk she was definitely hating, and licked his lips.

“You favored the sweeter wine tonight, I’m guessing.”

“Get to it, Nephilim.” That was the first time Jayn ever saw actual hurt in Cathan’s eyes, even though she hadn’t meant to be scathing in the least. _So he really was the child of Valentine and Jocelyn, dumped here for whatever reason. _“...I...I’m sorry.” He quickly resurrected his smug expression, and yet she could see cracks in it. She mentally filed that away for later, if there was a later.

“I’m used to hearing the truth. Faerie don’t lie. Now, where were we? Oh yes, I was complimenting you, and you were demanding...what exactly? My tongue, my fingers, my cock? What shall I please you with tonight?”

“Whatever you feel most confident with.” 

“You’d do well to brace yourself then.” Cathan dived back into her without another word, and she ended up doing as suggested, trying to knot her fingers in his perfect curls. Remembering what had happened before, Jayn managed to tug on his hair (well, it wasn’t that hard) whenever he was doing a particularly good job of things, and his groans served her almost as well as what he was fucking her with. Unfortunately, right as she was about to finish, he pulled away completely, leaving the bed. Jayn had half a mind to scream at him until she realized he’d gotten up to remove his drawers. _Oh._

He was pretty average by human standards, but she didn’t give a damn. It was nice enough getting a full view of his lightly toned, well-kept form. She noticed a few old scars on his back (plus an unexpected, fading iratze) that were more concerning than anything; those didn’t make him any less beautiful, though. Neither did the smudged makeup that accented his eyes, or the slight shine of her own ‘sweet wine’ that wet his chin. _Beautiful._

And then he was back on top, warm hands on her hips like he was about to guide her through a dance. 

“If you need to stop, tell me,” Cathan said quietly, all mirth gone from his features and voice. Jayn nodded, and slowly, slowly, he sunk into her, the effort not to start hammering away made evident on his lovely face. It was strange on her part: a bit of a stretch considering (fingers weren’t the same as...a man), but _relief. _It wasn’t often that she got to feel such certain satisfaction. There were always more people to be wary of, more things to kill.

He started getting into a rhythm, then, gradually picking up the pace as he began thrusting into her. And then he surprised her yet again, rolling the both of them over so the blue-haired woman was on top. She looked at him in awe, then dove down to devour his mouth in a rough kiss that he clearly did not expect. His eyes widened and slipped closed, and Cathan and Jayn were like before, sharing the taste of her between them. The assassin had hardly forgotten the position she was in, and she experimentally ground her hips against his, just as her hands found his soft curls again. He groaned, body tensing and nearly spasming under her.

"Again?" she asked, sitting up with both hands on his chest to keep her steady. He nodded, hands going to her hips like before. Jayn couldn't help but smile at that. She placed her own hands on top of his, and together they guided her as she rutted against him. It wasn't long before she was riding him hard, both muttering profanities under their breath until, finally, they came together--in more ways than one. The young woman allowed herself to collapse, resting on top of her lover's chest. He didn't make the effort to move from within her heat, and she didn't need him to.

Somewhere after the two of them had caught their breath, their eyes met.

"...thanks-"

"Is it true what they say about stamina runes?" Cathan blurted out. Jayn blinked, and then started laughing hard, understanding the joke (even if he didn't).

"You're asking me if I'm ready for another round." He smiled, reaching up to run his fingers through her ever-changing locks. "I am. No rune needed." She rolled over, lying on her back. "Your turn."

"With pleasure."


End file.
